


No Traveller Returns

by beckettemory



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Death, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckettemory/pseuds/beckettemory
Summary: Gibbs wakes up from a nightmare and realizes decades too late that he can't keep his pain to himself anymore. Set in a universe where Abby finds out about Pedro Hernandez and Shannon and Kelly Gibbs from Gibbs himself, rather than being assigned the cold case. Set roughly in season 7.





	

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for child death, murder, blood, and food
> 
> title is from Hamlet's "To Be or Not To Be" soliloquy bc I'm a theatre kid and can't be stopped

_ "Daddy, look!" _

_ Jethro smiled as five-year-old Kelly ran up to him with a piece of paper in her hand, her bright pink backpack bouncing and her hair flying.  _

_ "Hey pumpkin! How was school?" he asked as he lifted her onto his hip.  _

_ "Great," she gushed as she thrust the paper into his hands. It was a drawing, mostly scribbles in red and green and orange on a ladybug printed in black ink. Next to a particularly wild set of green swirls she had printed, in the best penmanship a kindergartener could muster, "TO DADY LOVE KELLY". Both Es had far more rungs than he'd ever seen in any other E, and he grinned. _

_ "Teacher said my writing is real good," Kelly said, swinging her feet as Jethro carried her into the house, pausing to nod at the bus driver waiting at the end of the driveway.  _

_ "Did she now?" Jethro asked, pushing open the front door.  _

_ "She wants me to write more so I said—" she stopped talking abruptly and Jethro's stomach dropped. _

_ Not again. _

_ Kelly began screaming and Jethro found his hands empty, sticky with cooling blood. He fell to his knees as blackness swirled around him.  _

_ Kelly was still screaming when Jethro woke up.  _

\-------------

Gibbs peeled open his eyes, screams echoing in his ears. He sat up slowly, feeling an ache in his chest that was profoundly familiar. It had been a while since his subconscious had thrown him a new dream. 

He passed a shaking hand over his face, rubbing his eyes, dry and uncomfortable, before passing his hand through his hair. He glanced up and saw his face in the mirror on the vanity.

His hair, blurry as it was in the mirror without his glasses, grounded him, depressed him. 

Kelly would have been over thirty years old by now. He might have been a grandfather.

Gibbs glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 8:42 am. He'd overslept. He grabbed his old flip phone from the table and rolled into his back. It was Sunday. No messages from work. One text from Tobias. Probably not urgent, or he'd have called. 

He dropped his phone onto the pillow next to him and pressed his palms to his eyes. His hands still shook. 

He'd nursed the pain into an old scar, the kind that ached every now and then and let out a brief, sharp pain when prodded. Each nightmare, whether new or repeated, was another stab into an old wound. The damage was done already but it still hurt like hell. 

The knowledge that the bastard who killed them was dead himself did nothing to soothe him in this. Distantly he felt relief that no one else would have to go through this at the hands of Pedro Hernandez. But him being dead didn't bring back his wife. And it didn't bring back his little girl. 

Gibbs waited until his hands were still, then picked up his phone. His palms were wet with tears. He wiped them off on his tshirt one at a time as he dialled and put the phone to his ear. 

"Good morning, mon capitaine!" said the bright voice on the other end after two rings. 

"Morning, Abbs," Gibbs croaked, then cleared his throat. "Can I treat you to breakfast this morning? At mine?"

There was a short pause and a brief scuffle. "Are you okay?"

Gibbs hesitated. "No," he admitted. "I thought I was. I'm not." 

There was a longer pause, and when Abby spoke again she sounded deathly afraid. "I-I'll be there soon."

"Abbs, I'm not in danger." 

"Great to hear," Abby said shortly. "I'll be there soon." 

Gibbs sighed and hung up. He got dressed mechanically and trudged to the kitchen. He opened cabinets and stared blankly into them until he heard a knock on the door. 

Abby had barely gotten dressed before coming over. Her pigtails were lopsided and her stockings were mismatched. She launched herself at Gibbs as soon as he opened the door, latching onto him in a tight hug. Gibbs closed the door as best as he could, and a brief flash reminded him he'd forgotten to do that—in the dream. He'd forgotten in the dream. 

Abby pulled back, worry twisting her brow and Gibbs tried to muster a smile with little success. 

"Morning," he mumbled. 

At that, Abby hugged him again. This time she didn't let go for half a minute. 

"I didn't start breakfast yet. What do you want?" he asked when she finally let go, leading the way to the kitchen and hoping to talk about something light before getting into the matter at hand. 

"Gibbs," Abby warned. 

"Abby, please." 

Abby stopped in her tracks at the magic word. "Must be pretty big, huh," she asked quietly, then let it go. "I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee first," she acquiesced. 

Gibbs nodded and began brewing a large pot of coffee. He'd need it. 

When they each held a mug in their hands, Abby sat at the small kitchen table and took a sip. She looked up at Gibbs, imploring him to start talking. She was a good listener, but by god she was good at getting you to talk. She'd learned it from him. 

Gibbs took a long, slow pull from his mug, then set it on the counter and reached up into a cabinet. On the top shelf of the cabinet that held cereal and pasta was a square decorative tin and an old cigar box. He pulled both out and opened the cigar box on the counter. He leafed through the contents until he found what he wanted. He crossed the kitchen, gazing down at the family photo he held in his hands, sat across from Abby, and gave it to her. 

At first she didn't understand. She saw Jethro, and recognized him despite it being taken a decade and a half before they'd met. Her eyes travelled across the other two faces, and then the hands of all three. The woman's hands holding Jethro's, Jethro's hands holding the woman's. The little girl's hands on either of their shoulders, leaning over and between the two of them. 

Abby looked up, and Gibbs knew she understood. 

"That's Shannon," he murmured, pointing to the woman. "And that's Kelly," he said, his finger sliding up to point to the girl. 

"Gibbs," Abby breathed, but for once she was at a loss for words.

"Shannon was my first wife." 

Abby looked confused. "I know about all of your wives," she said, but it came out more of a question. 

"Not Shannon," he said. 

Abby looked back at the photo, saw the girl, and looked up. 

"And....?"

"My daughter. Kelly." 

"You never....." Abby trailed off. She was beginning to look betrayed. 

"I never told you, Abbs, because I don't tell anyone," Gibbs answered her unspoken accusation. "Only you, Ziva, Director Shepard, and Ducky know. They all found out without me telling them."

A thought dawned on Abby and she looked down at the picture with a growing horror. 

"Are they—I mean, did they—"

"Yes." 

A long pause.

"How? When?" Abby asked softly.

Gibbs rubbed a hand over his face. "A long time ago, they witnessed a murder," he began, staring down at his hands as he talked. 

And Abby listened. 


End file.
